


anhedral

by narqueen



Series: Korvira Week 2020 [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Korvira Week 2020, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, and the plot is: korvira joins the mile-high club, anyways wes craven eat your heart out!!!, heavily implied kuvira praise kink, i wrote this out of sheer frustration from the korvira week poll, it's porn with plot, korvira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narqueen/pseuds/narqueen
Summary: Sex on a plane. No snakes.
Relationships: Korra/Kuvira (Avatar)
Series: Korvira Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961638
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	anhedral

**Author's Note:**

> written for korvira week 2020, day four: alternative universe. modern day! au where korvira joins the mile-high club. some avatar locations included.

It was Korra’s idea to bring the blanket, and while Kuvira had been skeptical of its necessity in their shared carry-on, she is ultimately grateful for her girlfriend’s foresight. The plane is _cold,_ almost inhabitability so, though that doesn’t stop people from dozing anyway. Red-eye flights in an ice box, courtesy of Sato Industry Airlines. Perfect for escalating the anxieties of passengers everywhere.

Kuvira’s being uncharitable, and she knows it, but ‘flying’ ranks high on her list of personal no-no’s. Something about being miles apart from the steady, reliable gravity of the earth makes her want to choke, or evict the contents of her stomach, or both. Throw in the fact they’re visiting Zaofu with the express purpose of introducing Korra to her family after eight months of dating, and Kuvira is seriously considering opening the emergency latch to kill everyone on board.

“—and when Mako was finally cornered, he literally waved his sock in defeat! Like this.” Their drinks (cranberry juice and ginger ale, respectively) have already come and gone, leaving Korra nothing to entertain herself with, save the starchy square napkin meant to be used as a coaster for the pull-out trays. It’s what she uses to demonstrate her friend Mako’s surrender in a group game of paintball. Kuvira tries to smile, except smiling makes her feel terrible, so she does nothing.

Korra lowers the napkin. “Still not feeling great, huh?” She nudges more of the fuzzy, duck-emblazoned wool sheet Kuvira’s way. “Want more of the blanket?”

Kuvira shakes her head. Her legs are mostly covered, anyway. “It’s fine. Besides, it won’t help.”

“Is it your mom?” Korra turns to face Kuvira directly—or, as much as one could in the middle seat. Kuvira has the window spot, and no one wanted to sit next to the girl in the polar-bear onesie, so at least they have a little extra wiggle room. “I told you not to text her in the airport. We could have got an Uber to her place. Give you some time to recover.”

“Can we not talk about my mom?” The mention of Suyin alone escalates Kuvira’s nausea by a couple degrees.

Korra puffs out her cheeks. “Okay. But if we have to stay in the bathroom when we land, I don’t care if she has to wait. That’s all I’m saying. She’ll still love me, I promise.”

Kuvira doesn’t disagree with Korra, necessarily. To be frank, any partner she brought home after Baatar Jr. would be considered stellar work, considering the man had been her sort-of sibling, and their relationship had been the starring issue of many family arguments for the better part of three years. So long as Kuvira didn’t date another relative, Suyin probably wouldn’t start a shouting match at the dinner table.

Except—the randomness of Suyin’s apathy towards Kuvira always managed to catch her off-guard, regardless of how often it happened. Opal leaving for college had garnered tears and a going-away party; when Kuvira left for the military, it had been a quiet, almost emotionless affair. Nothing Kuvira did ever inspired a positive reaction (or, for that matter, any reaction at all), thereby leading to a string of deliberately-inflammatory choices for an extended period of time (see: sleeping with her brother).

But things are different now. Kuvira has a career, an amazing girlfriend, and an entire country between herself and her mother. If major holidays and familial obligations didn’t exist, she’d be safely on the ground right now.

Her ears pop again, and Kuvira barely manages to suppress a groan. She’d taken dramamine, she’d taken Tylenol, yet neither were proving to be adequate remedies for the inherent maladies of air travel. Kuvira swallows thickly, tasting bile. If she vomited, and Suyin found out somehow...

“Hey.” Korra pokes her. “You good? You look kinda green.”

It’s only Kuvira’s deep-rooted affection for her girlfriend that keeps her from snapping. “I’ll live.”

A hand wriggles its way over the armrest to squeeze and stroke at Kuvira’s upper thigh. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My stomach hurts,” Kuvira admits, grudgingly, inordinately embarrassed by her own ailments. Korra’s hand moves immediately to Kuvira’s lower abdomen, massaging just above the waistband of her leggings.

“There?”

“Yeah.” Kuvira sighs. “Thanks.”

“It’s probably just nerves,” Korra muses. “You took, like, eight pills before we left. You need to relax.”

Kuvira nods mutely, directing her energy into willing a passable, forty-minute minimum nap into existence. No better way to avoid being sick than to simply turn her body off.

The hand dips lower, and suddenly, Kuvira is _very_ awake.

“Korra,” she says, as dignified and reasonably as possible, “what are you doing?”

“Helping you relax,” Korra replies, not half as dignified, as per the shit-eating grin splitting her face in two. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

Her fingers press down, and the pressure prompts Kuvira’s knee to jerk upwards, bumping noisily into her tray.

“Korra—“ Kuvira swallows, lifting slightly in her chair. Whether she’s trying to get away or give Korra better access is a mystery, the answer curiously elusive even to herself. “This isn’t very relaxing.”

“Really?” Korra doesn’t relent. “You’re always relaxed once you come. Just give me a second.”

She says it like it’s nothing, like suggesting they grab dessert after dinner. The tip of her index finger is making tight, deft circles on Kuvira’s clit, and Kuvira can do nothing but squirm, mind whirring with a million half-hearted excuses as to why they should stop.

“We’re outside.”

“Please. So were Adam and Eve.”

“I won’t be able to—” Kuvira inhales sharply, because _fuck,_ that feels good, so she can’t lie about it now. “I _might_ not be able to finish.”

“You let me worry about that,” Korra picks up the pace. “I’ve got a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

“This is my favorite airline,” Kuvira blurts, and as soon as the words come out of her mouth she realizes she’s lost. Korra must realize it, too, because she chooses that moment to slide her index finger down, down, into Kuvira’s heat, and curls the digit.

”Plane shmane,” Korra huffs. Her expression is genuinely indignant. “If we get banned for being spontaneous and awesome, that’s their problem.”

Kuvira shuts her eyes. Digs her head into the space above the window slot. Korra’s working her a into a frenzy, and the mind-numbing enjoyment is quickly eclipsing any concerns about adding to her already-dubious criminal record. Goddamn it.

“Wetter.” Kuvira licks her lips. If she was going to garner a public lewdness charge, might as well enjoy the experience. “My... I need to be wetter.”

Without missing a beat, Korra pulls her hand out of Kuvira’s leggings, gives the tips of her fingers a long, broad lick, then dives right back in. Surely _that_ will get them caught, Kuvira thinks, darting her eyes around the cabin, waiting for some uptight little bitch in slacks to come over and do her job. But the aisle remains empty, save for a fallen pretzel packet a few rows ahead. Using her free hand, Korra puffs out the blanket, which makes her ministrations a bit less obvious to any potential onlookers; coupled with the open position of their trays, Kuvira is actually pretty covered.

“Shit.” Kuvira closes her eyes again. At this point, the only way she can contribute to the mischief is to feign sleep. “Deeper.”

Unfortunately, Korra can’t really go deeper. It’s not entirely dissimilar to when they fuck facing the same direction: one on the other’s lap, spread on her thighs, the other reaching around to finger person number one wide open. Except now they were side-by-side, and there was an immovable armrest between them that made any sort of intimacy difficult, sexual or otherwise. This angle doesn’t allow for much more than shallow penetration, but what it lacks in that department it makes up for in clitoral stimulation. The majority of Korra’s index finger continually presses and passes against Kuvira’s bundle of nerves, and the blistering, relentless consistency of it makes her dig her nails into her palms.

_I’m going to make a mess,_ she thinks in despair. _I’m going to come all over the seat, and everyone‘s going to notice, and I’m going to be footed the dry-cleaning bill for a multimillion-dollar corporation._

Korra snuggles into the crook of Kuvira’s neck, as though she were using her shoulder for a headrest—a perfectly innocent scene between partners. But then she’s speaking in a low, gentle voice, exclusive for Kuvira’s ears. “I know you’ve been freaking out all week,” she murmurs. “But you’ve got this. You’ve got me. And I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. Ever.” Her breath is warm, and it caresses the side of Kuvira’s neck. “I love you. Just let go.”

It’s not the best orgasm of her life, but it is certainly most relieving, the general anxiety of getting caught and the frantic pursuit of climax simultaneously alleviated by the shot of pleasure up her spine. Kuvira doesn’t know how she summons the strength not to grind into Korra’s touch, but she can’t stifle a pathetic little keening noise that’s not entirely muffled by the lip of the blanket. Something rustles behind her, and even through the post-coital haze, Kuvira tenses up, which makes for an oddly stressful sort of come-down.

“Shh,” Korra nips the line of Kuvira’s jaw in time with her final, gentle strokes. “People are sleeping, babe.” She pulls her hand out from under the blanket, and Kuvira almost dies at the sight, because stuck in the clear fluid coating Korra’s fingers is a curly black public hair, wrapped neatly around one fingernail.

“Whoops,” Korra makes a sheepish face. She swipes the square drink napkin off the tray to clean herself. “Guess it’s a good thing they give us these!”

Kuvira blinks, processing what felt like an absurdly surreal succession of events. After a few moments, she wiggles back into her leggings; thankfully, she’s not _too_ sticky, though she’d probably have to change her underwear once they retrieved their things from baggage claim. From what she can assess, she probably hasn’t made a mess of her chair, which is comforting in and of itself. No flight attendants are shooting them dirty looks, and there’s no overhead announcement about an emergency landing to eject two misbehaving passengers. Everything seems... okay. Fine. Just like Korra said it would be.

“Everything okay, babe?” Korra is watching her pointedly. Kuvira gets the impression her girlfriend wants some sort of acknowledgement. Maybe praise. “You’re off in space.”

“Yeah. I—“ Kuvira clears her throat. “I think I’m going to sleep now.” Actually, she _is_ drowsy, and pleasantly so, exhausted by the rapid chase of her own peak. Most of the nausea has faded into a manageable discomfort. Her previous headache is miraculously cured.

Korra seems pleased with herself. She nestles deeper into her blanket bundle. “Good! Great. Just nap for the rest of the way. We’ve only got a couple hours to go.”

“Korra,” Kuvira says, and maybe it’s the tone of her voice, or the catch in her throat, but Korra leans over automatically, meeting Kuvira above their shared armrest for a long, soft, lingering kiss.

“You’re welcome,” Korra mumbles when they part.

“What for? I didn’t say anything.”

“Sure, sure.” Korra adjusts the blanket so it folds under her chin. “You can make it up to me later.”

If they were literally anywhere else, Kuvira would find a way to yank down Korra’s pants and devour her on the spot. But the flare of hunger is tapered by a sudden bout of turbulence, which shakes their seats and the luggage overhead.

“Trays up,” a flight attendant orders in passing, just as the seatbelt sign flashes on. Korra and Kuvira do as they’re told, though by the time they finish, the shaking has stopped.

“Look at that,” Korra grins cheekily. “You didn’t puke.”

Kuvira scowls. “I wasn’t going to.”

A hand returns to the crease of her thigh, rubbing gentle circles into it. “Don’t worry,” Korra says. “I’ll still think you’re sexy if you blow chunks.”

Kuvira snorts. “You must really love me.”

“Oh, I do. I really do. Never forget it.”

The hum of the engine is a nice, pitchy lull, and Kuvira closes her eyes; lets herself drift.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this out of sheer annoyance from the results of the 2020 korvira week polls!!! if you think kuvira "pr-crisis management" beifong would be starting public sex willy-nilly OFF THE GROUND you're /wrong/!!!!!!! i've said my piece!!! amen!!!!!!!!!!


End file.
